Any Other Name
by Miss Pookamonga
Summary: For Rodney, this was never a dream, and it never will be. Set sometime after TLT.


_Dear Readers,_

_I was listening to the piece "Any Other Name" by Thomas Newman from the _American Beauty _soundtrack yesterday, and I was inspired to write this. I have to say, if you've never read anything by Carl Jung, Shakespeare, Joseph Conrad, Nathaniel Hawthorne, or Henry James before, the symbolism in this is pretty confusing, but I believe that you all are smart enough to figure it out. A clue might be that the name of the music track is taken from the R&J line below, and the title of this is taken from both the music and the quote. I dunno. That's what you get from reading fics by English majors. Anyway, I really suggest listening to some of Thomas Newman's soundtracks while reading this; it really helps to get into the feel of the story. Oh, and if you want a picture reference for the girl in the fic: www(dot)kim-arts(dot)com/posters/red(underscore)hat(dot)htm. **But only look at it AFTER you read the fic!** Anyhoo, hope you enjoy! _

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and Save SGA advocate),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P (and her muses...Kenneth Branagh should be proud; I used a Shakespeare reference)_

_PS: The very slight Narnia reference at the end of this fic was completely unintentional, but now I realize that it kind of works with the theme of the story. Whoever guesses the reference gets **COOKIES!!**_

* * *

_"__**...A rose by any other name would smell as sweet..."**_

_**--Juliet Capulet, from Shakespeare's **_**Romeo and Juliet**

* * *

_****_

"'It is his extremity that I seem to have lived through. True, he had made that last stride, he had stepped over the edge, while I had been permitted to draw back my hesitating foot. And perhaps in this is the whole difference; perhaps all the wisdom, and all truth, and all sincerity, are just compressed into that inappreciable moment of time in which we step over the threshold of the invisible.' "

_**--Marlow, from Conrad's **_**Heart of Darkness**

* * *

_**Any Other Name**_

"Oh! These are for you."

He withdrew his hand from his back and presented her the full bouquet of red roses.

She gasped and stepped back a bit in surprise. "Really? For me?" She looked up at him in sheer delight and adoration.

"Yeah. Got them from the botany lab—they like growing earth flowers once in awhile," he answered bashfully, waving his free hand in the air as if that would make the awkwardness dissipate.

"They're beautiful," she sighed, taking the bouquet from his hand and planting a small kiss on his cheek. "I think I'll put them..." her eyes scanned the room for an empty vase, "...ah! Right here."

He stepped into the room and watched her, transfixed, as she gently unwrapped the flowers and placed them into the vase she had found. "I'll just get some water..." he heard her mutter to herself as she disappeared into the bathroom. He inadvertently kept his eyes on the fresh bouquet as he listened to the sound of running water coming from the faucet.

And then, it happened.

It took only a fraction of a second, but he was almost sure he saw it.

The rose right on the edge of the vase facing towards him suddenly moved.

No, it didn't just move.

It was _wilting_.

The dark green stem twisted and writhed, contorting itself into a ghastly crooked shape, and as it did so, its color slowly began to fade from that deep green into a sickly grey. The petals and leaves quivered and started to shrivel, their red edges curling inward as if they were burning, forming repulsive black masses atop and on the sides of the stem. The mass which had once been the blossom dragged the stem downward while ashy bits of the dead petals drifted onto the surface of the table. And then, suddenly, all of it began to fall, one crusted petal after another dropping to the table, lifeless, withered nothingness—

"Rodney?"

He jumped.

"You okay?"

It took him a few seconds of screwing up his face and blinking several times before he realized that Jennifer was standing there between him and the vase. "Oh, oh...huh? Oh, I'm fine," he answered, half-dazed.

"Are you sure?" She stepped toward him, but he suddenly snapped back to reality and held his hands out in front of her.

"No, no. I'm good, really. Just...I...have a bit of a...headache."

She turned around to pour the glass of water into the vase, but she kept on staring at him, concerned. "Do you want me to get you some aspirin?"

"No, I'm—" He stopped, suddenly noticing the bouquet again.

The rose looked completely normal.

"Rodney?"

He blinked again, running a hand over his face. "Ah, ah...I'm fine, really. Let's just go have dinner."

"You're sure?" She placed a hand on his forehead. "Not feverish..."

"I'm okay. Can we eat now? I'm starving."

She sighed in resignation. "All right. Maybe you'll feel better after then."

"Well, food always makes me feel better," he answered more lightly, forcing a grin.

"Mmm-hmm," she muttered as she walked out the door, Rodney in tow.

Just as he walked out the door, however, he turned to take one last glance at the bouquet.

Nothing had changed.

He must've imagined it, he told himself. Nothing more than his imagination, playing tricks on him.

But somehow, he wasn't entirely convinced.

* * *

_Wake up._

He tossed his body to the other side of the bed, willing for sleep to retain its power over him.

_Wake up._

It was more than a feeling, more than an annoying urge. It was a voice, light and unfamiliar, dancing through his head, taunting him with the same words over and over again.

_Wake up, wake up, wake up._

No. No...sleep, sleep...

_Wake. Up._

His eyes shot open and he gasped for air. He clutched his blanket and sat up slowly, unwillingly feeling the dizziness rush to his head. This was the third time this night that he had spontaneously awoken, shaking and shivering for some unknown reason. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't have a fever—he'd know if he did, and besides, Jennifer hadn't noticed anything else strange going on after dinner. But he wasn't feeling well; he knew that much. What he didn't know was _why_.

_You know why._

He choked on air and clutched his blanket even more tightly upon hearing that voice. He was dreaming, still dreaming. That voice had only been in his dreams.

_This isn't a dream._

Oh, God, what was happening? He wasn't _hearing _it, but it was _there_, there in his head, speaking to him, echoing throughout his mind although there was no one in the room but him.

He hadn't...no, not the Cadman incident again—

_It's not that._

He squeezed his eyes shut and let himself slide downward against the headboard until his head landed softly on his pillow. _I am _not_ going insane_, he adamantly insisted to himself, repeating the words lest the voice come back again.

Two minutes.

No voice.

He carefully opened his eyes and sat up again, searching the room just in case there really was some undetected person or device there messing with his head. But there was nothing, nothing that he could immediately see. _Just a dream, _he told himself, and began to lie back down—

—only to shoot right back up again.

There, in front of the door. Standing motionless, staring straight at him.

A little girl.

Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Face like an angel, but her eyes boring coldly and devilishly into his.

His breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth, hoping to make a noise, hoping to breathe, hoping to do _something_, but nothing happened. He just sat there, and she just stood there, gazing icily at him in crippling silence.

Suddenly, he coughed, the air came rushing back into his lungs, and he cried out for lack of anything better to do.

She vanished.

He stopped yelling and gaped in terror at the empty spot in which, only seconds before, the little girl had been standing. Oh, God, he _was _going insane.

Or maybe he was still dreaming, just dreaming.

He slammed his head back onto his pillow and turned on his side so that his back was facing the door, then squeezed his eyes shut. It was just a dream, just a dream.

_This was never a dream. _

He froze.

_It never will be._

* * *

It had been weeks since he had seen her. That was why the fact that the thought of her had crossed his mind surprised him. For days after that night, he had roamed the halls apprehensively, expecting her to spontaneously appear when he turned every corner, but she never had. Eventually, he had relaxed and pushed the thought of her to the back of his mind in that deadly yet comforting way, and had tried to forget about her altogether. The only strange thing he'd really done in the past few weeks was that he had avoided the botany lab at all costs, but then again, he never really went there anyway.

So why _had _he thought of her just now?

"Are you watching the road?" Jennifer's troubled voice interrupted his confused musings.

"Yes, yes, I am," he whined, annoyed. "I can think and drive at the same time, you know."

"Okay, I'm just making sure," Jennifer defended, shifting her position in her seat.

"You know what your problem is? You are way too careful," he teased, grinning slyly and waggling a finger at her.

She choked on a loud laugh. "_Me_? Too careful? Look who's talking!" she scoffed.

"Heeyyy, I'm careful, but not obsessive!"

"Ha! That is a total lie."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is no—_OH MY GOD_!"

He slammed on the brakes, sending the two of them flying forward.

It was _her_.

In the street. There she was again, standing. Staring. Immobile, like a statue, but with eyes that could burn a soul.

"Oh my God! Rodney! What?! What is it?!"

He felt a cold shiver pass down his spine as he lifted a shaky finger to point at the street and turned to face Jen. "D-did you see her?! She j-just came out of nowhere!" he stuttered in shock.

Jennifer frowned anxiously. "No! I didn't see anything...what are you talking about?! There's nothing there!"

"Y-you didn't see..." he trailed off as he turned to look back out at the street.

It was empty.

And there was no sign of the girl anywhere.

"Holy hell..." he muttered to himself, trembling in terror.

"Are you okay?"

He gulped and flexed his fingers, stretching out his stiff palms. "I-I'm fine. God, I must be seeing things..."

"See, what did I tell you about who's too careful? You see pedestrians where there aren't any!" She shifted her position once more and relaxed against the seat back.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he groaned, lifting his foot off the brake pedal and driving forward, ignoring the persistent honking coming from behind his car.

Suddenly, a flash of golden hair caught his eye.

He turned his head only slightly to glance at the sidewalk, and to his shock, there she was again.

But this time, she was holding a red rose.

* * *

"Why the hell do you have to go to the bathroom _now_?"

"I'm a woman."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It doesn't. I just needed something to say—look, there's a parking space."

He sighed and pulled the car into the spot, braking and turning off the engine. "Can't you wait? We're almost to Jeannie's," he whined.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "No," she stated definitively, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of the car.

"Fine, fine! Go!" he groaned at the empty seat next to him.

Silence.

Silence had never particularly bothered him, especially when he was working, but when he was doing nothing or standing around practically waiting to be killed by an alien enemy, silence was like a death sentence in itself. And somehow, this silence was growing eerier by the minute, encroaching upon him like a monstrous creature hiding in the dark. Maybe it was because he had seen _her _for the first time in six weeks...but he was preferring to forget about that incident altogether, like he had tried to forget her first appearance before. In the back of his mind he knew that forgetting, for some reason, was the complete opposite of what he was supposed to be doing, but the thought of her terrified him, and he hated facing his fears unless it was absolutely necessary to do so.

He switched the radio on and pressed the "scan" button, hoping that the machine would eventually land on a station playing something at least mildly appealing. He laid his head back onto the seat and closed his eyes, attempting to relax. Knowing his luck, he figured that they had picked the one rest stop with a long bathroom line and that Jen was going to take more than two minutes to return. A short power nap would probably do wonders for his nerves.

_Open your eyes._

Or not.

He didn't know why he reluctantly obeyed the disembodied voice's command, but something told him that if he didn't obey, it would grow even more persistent just like it had the last time. When his eyes were open, he stayed frozen in his seat, not wanting to move or glance anywhere else besides the spot of grass he was currently staring at for fear that _she _would reappear the moment he turned his head.

_Look over here. _

There was no possible way he could've known where "here" was, but his head began to turn to the right as if it was being moved by an invisible force. Suddenly, it stopped, and he blinked hard to catch his bearings.

And gasped.

It wasn't her.

Far from it. And yet, so close too.

Someone so familiar, someone whom he hadn't seen in months ever since she had been forced to leave unexpectedly—

"_Sam_?!" he spoke to the air, his heart pounding in disbelief, terror, and excitement all at the same time.

Without thinking, he wrenched the key from the ignition, unbuckled his seatbelt, and clambered out of the car. His nerves were wired, jumping from one eager movement to another, one jumbled thought to another. He couldn't understand why his entire body had suddenly sprung to life at the sight of her, and yet, he _knew_, somewhere in his mind. This wasn't as if she had come back from the dead like Carson had practically done, but for some reason it felt that way, and he was struggling with an unquenchable urge to just _talk _to her. He liked talking to her, he realized, because there were some conversations he could have with only her and not anyone else, not even Jennifer or Sheppard. And he somehow felt that he needed to talk to her. As if there was something he needed to get off his chest, although he wasn't consciously sure what.

He wanted to know how she was doing. He wanted to know why she was here in Canada, at the same rest stop as he was. He wanted to know where she was going, what she was planning, anything and everything. But he didn't know why he wanted all that. Something surged up within him and pushed him forward, leading him straight to the blonde-haired woman he'd seen through the windshield.

"Sam?!" he cried incredulously, tapping the woman on the shoulder.

She turned.

His heart plummeted what seemed like thirty stories downward.

"I'm sorry?"

She wasn't Sam. A beautiful blue-eyed, blonde-haired woman, yes, but not _his_. Not _his _Sam.

"I-I—" Wait, why had he called her _his_?

"Do you need something, sir?"

Rodney shook his head and took a deep but shaky breath. "N-no, no, sorry, I just thought you were, um, someone I know. Sorry." He backed away apologizing and blushing profusely before he finally found the nerve to spin around on his heel and run mercilessly back to his car.

_Damn you_, he cursed himself. He'd made an idiot of himself yet again.

And all for that one woman. And a stupid voice in his head.

Maybe he needed to see somebody.

No, no, he didn't need anybody. He was going to be fine, just fine.

But when he looked up, he knew he wasn't going to be fine. Because there, standing up straight in the grass, was a blossoming red rose, its petals full and opened save for one faded yellow one which was precariously perched on the edge of the flower. He gulped, knowing exactly what was going to happen next.

The petal slowly began to shrivel, then crumbled into a thousand tiny pieces, falling to the ground like black snow.

"Phew! Sorry, the line was pretty long."

He literally jumped two inches upon hearing Jennifer's voice. "Ah! Don't scare me like that!"

She gave him a sarcastically apologetic smile. "Sorry. I forgot how tight your nerves are."

"Ha, ha, very funny," he muttered, fastening his seatbelt and turning on the engine. He glanced out the rear window to check the road.

Suddenly, his breath tightened in his lungs, and he froze for a split second.

At the edge of the parking space. The dead, shriveled rose lying crumpled and flat on the pavement.

"Hello? Earth to Rodney," Jennifer interrupted, waving her hand in front of his face.

"Huh? Oh—stop—stop it!" He waved her hand away and backed out of the space, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned as pale as the face of the girl haunting him.

* * *

It had been a welcome relief to finally arrive at Jeannie's house and have the chance to sit down and actually calm down without any threat of roses or creepy little girls appearing randomly in front of him. Granted, Madison was a little girl—with blonde hair and blue eyes, for that matter—but she wasn't creepy. And definitely nothing like the little girl he'd seen. Or so he thought.

"I'm so glad you guys could make it out this weekend," Jeannie said as she entered the living room, carrying a vegetable and dip tray in her hands. "We haven't seen Mer here in months."

He stiffened at the use of his unwanted nickname, and Jennifer giggled beside him.

"It's not funny," he grumbled, glaring at her. Jen just shook her head and looked away.

"Uncle Mer! Uncle Mer!"

Madison scurried into the room, her feet padding softly against the carpet.

"I made something for you," she declared proudly, jumping onto his lap and handing him a folded piece of white computer paper.

"Oh, really?" he replied in the enthusiastic voice he always used with her. "Hmm...let's see..."

He froze for what felt like the millionth time that day.

"It's a rosebush. From our backyard. I like drawing flowers," the girl explained eagerly, looking up at him for approval.

He gulped and forced a smile. "It's beautiful, Maddie, thank you," he answered, hoping fervently that he was keeping a straight face.

A timer rang loudly from somewhere in the kitchen.

"Oh, great, that's the ham," Jeannie muttered. "I—"

"I'll help," Jennifer piped, rising to her feet.

"Oh, no, you don't have to—"

"Trust me, it's better me than him." Jen flashed him a playful grin. He made a face in reply.

Jeannie chuckled. "On second thought, you're right. I think he would drop it."

"Can you please stop speaking about me as if I'm not here?!" he whined, but they had already left for the kitchen.

He sighed heavily and shook his head. "It's always like this with your mother," he grumbled to Madison, who had proceeded to slip off his lap and was kneeling on the side of the coffee table opposite him. When he was sure she wasn't looking, he folded the picture she had drawn into a tiny square and stuffed it into his pocket so he wouldn't have to constantly be bothered by it.

"Uncle Mer?" She looked up and cocked her head to the side inquisitively.

"Yeah, Maddie, what is it?" He covered his pocket with his hand.

She said nothing for a few seconds and instead stared intently into his eyes with her own, as if she was searching for something.

"Are you happy?"

For some reason, his hand immediately clenched around the fabric of his jeans at the question. He felt that all-too familiar feeling of eeriness creeping across him as his heart began to hammer more rapidly.

"Heh...why...what do you mean?" he half-chuckled.

She took a piece of celery from the vegetable tray and dipped it carefully into the ranch dressing. "What I said. Are you happy?" she replied almost nonchalantly, swirling the celery around in the dip.

He balled his hands into tight fists. "O-of course, Maddie," he answered, leaning forward in an attempt to stop himself from shaking. "Why do you ask?"

The minute she looked up again, he felt that icy chill that he had felt earlier that day, when he had seen _her_. It crawled up and down his spine, numbing his senses. She was boring her eyes into his, but not in the inquisitive, searching way she had done just moments before. Now her eyes were as icy as the chill running through his spine, searing straight through his own, making him shiver even more in terror—

—they looked like _her _eyes.

"Maddie, what—"

"You're not happy. I know you're not," she cut him off in a low, almost deadpan voice that sent even more chills throughout his body. She looked down again and this time dipped a carrot into the dressing. "You've seen her."

He swore he stopped breathing for at least five seconds.

"W-wha—how—"

"I just know."

His jaw clamped shut. She stared back up at him, making him feel queasy.

"You're making a mistake."

He furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"

She bit into the carrot and chewed for a few seconds before glancing at the kitchen.

"Jennifer?"

She merely directed her gaze back to the vegetable tray.

"Maddie, how do you...why..."

Was he really having this conversation with his six-year-old niece?

"You should listen to her." She looked back up again, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. "Before it's too late."

His eyes widened. "What do you mean? Before what's too late?" he asked shakily.

"Listen to her."

"But...how...why—who _is _she?!"

"You know her."

"No, I—"

"Dinner's ready!"

He suddenly tore his gaze away from Maddie's to look at Jennifer, who had just appeared in the archway between the living room and the kitchen. He opened his mouth to say something, but Maddie beat him to the chase.

"Good! I'm starving!" she said excitedly, and ran off into the dining room as if the previous conversation had never happened.

"You coming?" Jen asked him, indicating the dining room with her head.

"Uhh...yeah..." he answered slowly, pushing himself up off the couch.

His chills however, showed no signs of subsiding.

* * *

1:09 A.M.

He turned over yet again in his bed, praying that sleep would come to him. But he somehow knew that it wouldn't. Every time he closed his eyes he was met with ghostly images of Maddie and the little girl and Sam and dying roses and frankly, he couldn't take it anymore.

But whenever he opened his eyes, he was met with nothing but blackness oozing in around him, engulfing him in cold arms of horrific silence. He felt as if he was being swallowed whole by a beast in the shadows, and that feeling was no better than the feeling he got when he saw those images in his head.

He needed sleep.

But he also needed to get out of that room.

He didn't know when he decided to sit up, get out of bed, and throw some decent clothes on. He didn't really even know what he was doing; all he knew was that he needed to get out, to clear his head, to run away from that beast although some part of him knew that he couldn't outrun it forever.

He was grateful for the fact that Jeannie had lent him a key to the back door. When he had slipped out to the backyard, he headed for the gate and cut across the front yard to the sidewalk. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he felt that he had to go somewhere, so he kept walking past the numerous homogenous houses, all looming over him ominously as if they were beasts in themselves. He kept on walking, faster and faster and faster, letting the cold air whip at his face and strike away the disturbing images in his head and the ever-present darkness threatening to devour him. He walked farther and farther down the street, several blocks, he surmised, until a flash of color suddenly met his eye.

He stopped at the corner.

In the park across the street. Something there...

Ignoring all rational mental arguments urging him not to venture into the empty park, he briskly strode across the street into the grove of trees that met the edge of the sidewalk. Slowly, he began to weave among them, searching for something he wasn't even sure was there, peering behind tree trunks and behind benches, under bushes and beside lampposts. The logical part of him knew that what he was doing was entirely nonsensical, but for the first time in his life he didn't want to listen to logic. He wanted to listen to...to listen to...

_Her._

Holding a red rose.

To his surprise, he didn't grow numb upon seeing her standing there, bathed in the glow of an iron lamppost's light. For what seemed like hours, neither of them moved; rather, they simply stared straight into each other's eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the other's intentions. At least, that was what he tried to do.

He surprised himself by moving forward, taking step after step towards this tiny creature who had been terrorizing his mind although she seemed so defenseless and powerless. He never took his eyes off hers; he let them guide him to her until he was kneeling before her, looking right at her at her eye level.

"Who are you?" The voice that emerged from his throat was barely a whisper.

She lowered the rose away from her face to speak. "You know me," she answered quietly, and suddenly, he realized that the voice in his head had been hers.

"I don't," he whispered, irritated. "I don't know who you are or what you want." He clenched his hands into fists.

She continued to drill her gaze mercilessly into his, but he didn't flinch, however much he wanted to. "You know what you want, don't you?"

He swallowed, remembering Maddie's words from that evening. "Y-yes. Yes. I do." His face stiffened in defiance.

"Then why aren't you happy?"

"Agh—you—" he leapt to his feet in aggravation and whipped his arms out to his sides. "I _am _happy, okay?! I'm happy, and I'm fine, and I don't need you—you—whatever kind of spirit or thing you are to keep telling me that I'm not because I _am_!"

He felt the darkness creeping in from behind him.

"You _do _need me," the girl answered in a wispy voice. "I'm _part _of you."

_That_ made the chills run through his spine again.

"I...I can't do this," he croaked after several seconds of dead silence. "I won't, and I can't. I'm not going to let myself go insane." He turned on his heel and began to swiftly walk away, feeling the weight of her glacial stare drag behind him.

Silence.

Death in silence. Darkness, closing in around him. He, pushing it away.

Nothing but dark silence...

"I can't wait forever, Daddy."

Stop.

He turned.

In an instant, he let the pieces fall into place before him until they formed the picture of that very girl. Her eyes, her hair, the shape of her chin, the way she stared, the way she stood—

Madison had been right.

He _did_ know her.

And for the first time, he realized that her eyes were not frozen pools of icy terror. They were quivering in fear. Deadly fear.

He stared.

She stared.

They stared until he felt as if he had absorbed all of her into his memory, as if the image of her had been branded on his soul.

And finally, for a split second...

...he was happy.

A gust of wind suddenly hit him in the face, and he screwed his eyes shut, sealing off the connection between him and her. He shielded his face with his hands until the strange wind whistled away, ruffling his hair and then the grass and leaves behind it. When it had finally passed, he opened his eyes.

She was gone.

Nothing.

Nothing, save for a few red rose petals dancing gracefully upon the swirling breeze, floating in the air beneath the golden lamplight.

He gazed at the spot for a moment, and then turned and walked away, letting the darkness illuminate all of him.

_**FIN**_


End file.
